This evening I was in the kitchen making soup for dinner, and the one guy who last week asked me why I don't hang out with anyone on the floor came into the kitchen. And although I was snippy with him just a few days ago, you'll never guess what he did. He came into the kitchen and went to the refrigerator, where he pulled out two Capri Suns. Then he set one down on the counter next to where my soup had been cooking (at that moment, I was just washing out the pot), and asked me in a somewhat timid voice, "Excuse me, do you want this?" I was just shocked a little. Here I was, just washing out a pan after having snubbed him just a few days earlier, and he offered me a drink! "Oh no, it's ok," I said. But he insisted, saying "I've got two. You can have this one." I immediately felt bad for having been so rude to him earlier. It seems he really is a good guy. Maybe a bit loud at times, but at least he's not a jerk. I accepted the drink and we smiled at each other, and he left to go back to his room, while I stayed to finish washing the pot.
On a side note, either German Capri Suns aren't as tasty as the American variety, they've changed the recipe a lot since I last had them, or my tastes have changed radically since the days when I would refer to them as "tiger juice."
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Monday, June 14, 2010
Toooooooor!
It's World Cup (that's like the Super Bowl of soccer) season in Germany and everyone's catching the fever. And with the American team tying against England in the match on Saturday evening, even Americans are getting into it. I myself was ready to cheer on the American team on Saturday, then turn around the next day and cheer on the German team to a stunning 4:0 victory over Australia. Well done, Germany!
watching the game on a big screen outdoors at Ulenspiegel
Probably the best part of the Germans winning Sunday night, was the huge, spontaneous "party" everyone decided to throw in the middle of the street. It was like going through a Puerto Rican neighborhood on Puerto Rican Independence Day times ten. I can't even imagine what it would be like here if Germany won the whole competition. Probably annoying for the people who don't like that sort of thing, but as for me, I like the company.
Watch as the Germans go crazy over a simple qualifying game. It's beautiful:
Saturday, June 12, 2010
*Really* Crazy German
A week ago today, I posted about a so-called "crazy German" who sat down square in the middle of a busy intersection.
Well, I may have found someone crazier. Today, I decided to take the bus into town to go shopping. As I was getting on the bus, I saw a crazy bag lady walking down the street, yelling at a group of young boys (about 10 years old, I'd say), calling them "assholes." I thought it was weird, but got on the bus, and found an empty seat...which was pretty easy to do, since there were only like 5 people on the bus. Then I heard the crazy lady getting closer and closer, and finally, to my horror and amusement, I saw her climbing on the bus. And she really did have to climb; she had so many bags attached to various parts of her body, I don't know how she moved at all.
And of course, as all crazy people seem to do, she sat down in the seat across the aisle from me. Figures. Though, I can't say I was too upset about it. Although she scared me a little, I think I was more intrigued by her, and was glad to have the opportunity to see her up close. She eventually got up to go back outside and try to chase those boys who were staring and pointing at her. In the meantime, some other girl got on the bus and sat in the bag lady's seat. So where do you think the bag lady sat when she finally got back on the bus? That's right. She moved even closer to me. This time, she sat in the seat facing me. So from Eichendorffring to Berliner Platz, I got to listen to her crazy ramblings about dentists. At some point, she was rambling about how lines in dentist offices are unbearably long. "You wait for hours and hours...and sometimes two!" It was quite an experience. One which I'm sure you'd like to share with me. Lucky for me I again had my handy-dandy Handy and was able to record some of her ramblings for you...though remember, this is Germany and this woman was rambling in German. So sorry if you can't understand it. I'd translate for you, but that would take too much time, and I don't feel like doing the work. =P
SM_A0002.mp3
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**Edit: I'm not saying I didn't feel sorry for the woman. Really I did...but it wasn't something you see every day, so it was a bit shocking and scary (seeing her chasing after the boys and yelling that she'd kill them, how was I to know how she would react toward me?) but also intriguing.
Well, I may have found someone crazier. Today, I decided to take the bus into town to go shopping. As I was getting on the bus, I saw a crazy bag lady walking down the street, yelling at a group of young boys (about 10 years old, I'd say), calling them "assholes." I thought it was weird, but got on the bus, and found an empty seat...which was pretty easy to do, since there were only like 5 people on the bus. Then I heard the crazy lady getting closer and closer, and finally, to my horror and amusement, I saw her climbing on the bus. And she really did have to climb; she had so many bags attached to various parts of her body, I don't know how she moved at all.
And of course, as all crazy people seem to do, she sat down in the seat across the aisle from me. Figures. Though, I can't say I was too upset about it. Although she scared me a little, I think I was more intrigued by her, and was glad to have the opportunity to see her up close. She eventually got up to go back outside and try to chase those boys who were staring and pointing at her. In the meantime, some other girl got on the bus and sat in the bag lady's seat. So where do you think the bag lady sat when she finally got back on the bus? That's right. She moved even closer to me. This time, she sat in the seat facing me. So from Eichendorffring to Berliner Platz, I got to listen to her crazy ramblings about dentists. At some point, she was rambling about how lines in dentist offices are unbearably long. "You wait for hours and hours...and sometimes two!" It was quite an experience. One which I'm sure you'd like to share with me. Lucky for me I again had my handy-dandy Handy and was able to record some of her ramblings for you...though remember, this is Germany and this woman was rambling in German. So sorry if you can't understand it. I'd translate for you, but that would take too much time, and I don't feel like doing the work. =P
SM_A0002.mp3
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**Edit: I'm not saying I didn't feel sorry for the woman. Really I did...but it wasn't something you see every day, so it was a bit shocking and scary (seeing her chasing after the boys and yelling that she'd kill them, how was I to know how she would react toward me?) but also intriguing.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Life in Scheissendorffring
**Caution: the contents of this blog post are caustic in nature. Do not let contents come into contact with skin. If you do come into contact with the subject matter, rinse affected area in cool water and contact a poison control center immediately... i.e. this post might have some foul language because I'm kinda irritated right now. I generally try to keep my cool and keep my blog posts clean for the Kinder and faint-of-heart in my reading audience, but at the moment, I can't take it anymore. Maybe it's the weather. Just warning you all, so you don't call the FCC on me for poisoning your children's minds with (gasp!) swear words, or whatever.**
So, I went into the kitchen to get the last of my apple juice from the fridge, and there was a guy there who was opening a can of tuna. He turned to me, and the following dialogue ensued (I've translated it to English; it was in German originally):
Maybe I wouldn't have been so snippy with him if it hadn't already been a rough night for me. See, there's this one guy on my floor who kinda bothers the hell out of me...well they all kinda bother the hell out of me. But this guy kinda intimidates me too. It's like this: at the beginning of the semester when I first moved in here, I tried to be friendly toward my new neighbors. When I saw them in the kitchen or in the hallway or whatever, I'd smile and wave or say "hi," and most of them would do the same. Or at least they'd fucking nod or show some sort of acknowledgment that I had greeted them. Well this one dude who lives on my floor and whom I've seen since the very beginning (when I first moved in here, there weren't so many people, so I didn't see many people) must hate me or something, because every time I would try to be friendly and smile/wave/say "hi" to him, he never said or did anything other than give me a look like he was disgusted I would dare try to be friendly to my new neighbor (heaven forbid!). But still I persisted, hoping that one day he'd come to accept me as fellow resident and neighbor, if not friend, in this shitty excuse for a dorm, we call Eichendorffring. Because Lord knows it can be rough when you have to live next to, and share common living space with, people who apparently think you're the scum of the earth.
Well eventually, we had to have a floor meeting, because the retards on my floor didn't seem to understand the fact that they are not the only ones who use the kitchen. i.e. you need to clean up after yourself when you're done in the kitchen, dumbasses; neither I nor anyone else wants to deal with your dirty shit laying everywhere. And so there were fliers posted on the door leading outside and the door leading into the kitchen and the door to the bathroom and even inside the kitchen itself. Well, one day, I was going into the kitchen to get something from the refrigerator, and that dude that always gives me dirty looks, along with a few other residents of the floor, was in there. They were all doing various things; I think our local shithead was cooking dinner or something. And when he sees me, he gets all pissy with me: "Did you see the fliers about the meeting this Wednesday?" he demanded to know (not asked; demanded). What a stupid question! Of course I'd seen them, fuckwad; I'm not blind. I was taken aback by the forcefulness of his voice and face, and I just answered that yes, I had seen them. And he continued to harass me: "You MUST be there!"
"Ok," I answered. "I'll be there."
He continued, even more forcefully, with such anger in his voice and on his face: "Do you understand me??! You MUST be there!!!"
What part of "Ok, I'll be there" do you not understand, shitbag? And doing this in front of several people who could have potentially been friends of mine? Obviously this was some sort of intimidation tactic. Or some stupid dick-waving contest.
So, I've avoided that stupid motherfucker like the plague when I can help it--I don't go in and cook dinner when he's in the kitchen; hell, I don't even go into the kitchen when he's there, if I can at all help it. And when I can't help it, I either ignore him or act rude to him. Once, during that stupid floor party that I wouldn't have condescended to attend even had I not had to give a presentation the next day, I made sure to elbow him out of the way when he was blocking my access to the refrigerator. Serves him right, the shitfucker! Think you can fuck with me and get away with it? Think again, fuck face.
Anyway...so, that guy was in the kitchen tonight when I wanted to make dinner... and when he's in the goddamned kitchen, he's in there for hours. Takes his sweet old time cooking a shit ton of food and then gleefully eating it in front of the TV, while yelling "SCHEISSE!!!" at the top of his lungs. So I didn't eat much tonight. Therefore I'm hungry because of idiots on this floor who piss me off, and when I finally go back to kitchen to get something from the fridge, and some little shit (who I'm 95% sure is responsible for at least a third of the noise that goes on at unreasonable hours in this hall) has the balls to ask me why I'm so quiet and why I don't hang out with the other people in this hall, how the fuck do you think I was going to respond???
Let's see...someone from this floor has stolen from me, not once, but TWICE; the fridge and practically everything else here is a piece of crap that doesn't work properly; I get yelled at by an asshole for not even doing anything; you fuckers threw a huge party that could be heard from 5 floors above and that lasted until at least 4 in the morning on the night before I had to give a presentation; and random people go screaming down the halls. Yeah, I don't like you. You people piss me the fuck off like no other. I hate this overpriced, tiny-ass shitbox of a room (two-fucking-hundred-and-thirty euros a month for this kennel...and look, it comes with its own dog shit!!!). You can all shove this building up your ugly asses and go fuck yourselves in Hell.
So, I went into the kitchen to get the last of my apple juice from the fridge, and there was a guy there who was opening a can of tuna. He turned to me, and the following dialogue ensued (I've translated it to English; it was in German originally):
He: Can I speak with you briefly?Ok, so I didn't say the "dickweed" part. But I definitely thought it, and all the rest of the dialogue actually happened.
I: (blank look that said, "really, bitch?") ...um, yeah.
He: Why are you so quiet?
I: Why should I be loud?
He: I mean, why do you never hang out in the kitchen with the other people on this floor?
I: ("bitch, please" look) ...
He: I mean, you're never here with the other people on this floor. Do you not like us or something?
I: Actually no.
He: I mean, so, the people on this floor--you don't like them or what?
I: No, actually, I don't like the majority of people on this floor. They make me mad. (I start to walk out the door)
He: Ok, just wanted to ask. Have a good night.
I: (walking out the door) Yeah, you too, dickweed.
Maybe I wouldn't have been so snippy with him if it hadn't already been a rough night for me. See, there's this one guy on my floor who kinda bothers the hell out of me...well they all kinda bother the hell out of me. But this guy kinda intimidates me too. It's like this: at the beginning of the semester when I first moved in here, I tried to be friendly toward my new neighbors. When I saw them in the kitchen or in the hallway or whatever, I'd smile and wave or say "hi," and most of them would do the same. Or at least they'd fucking nod or show some sort of acknowledgment that I had greeted them. Well this one dude who lives on my floor and whom I've seen since the very beginning (when I first moved in here, there weren't so many people, so I didn't see many people) must hate me or something, because every time I would try to be friendly and smile/wave/say "hi" to him, he never said or did anything other than give me a look like he was disgusted I would dare try to be friendly to my new neighbor (heaven forbid!). But still I persisted, hoping that one day he'd come to accept me as fellow resident and neighbor, if not friend, in this shitty excuse for a dorm, we call Eichendorffring. Because Lord knows it can be rough when you have to live next to, and share common living space with, people who apparently think you're the scum of the earth.
Well eventually, we had to have a floor meeting, because the retards on my floor didn't seem to understand the fact that they are not the only ones who use the kitchen. i.e. you need to clean up after yourself when you're done in the kitchen, dumbasses; neither I nor anyone else wants to deal with your dirty shit laying everywhere. And so there were fliers posted on the door leading outside and the door leading into the kitchen and the door to the bathroom and even inside the kitchen itself. Well, one day, I was going into the kitchen to get something from the refrigerator, and that dude that always gives me dirty looks, along with a few other residents of the floor, was in there. They were all doing various things; I think our local shithead was cooking dinner or something. And when he sees me, he gets all pissy with me: "Did you see the fliers about the meeting this Wednesday?" he demanded to know (not asked; demanded). What a stupid question! Of course I'd seen them, fuckwad; I'm not blind. I was taken aback by the forcefulness of his voice and face, and I just answered that yes, I had seen them. And he continued to harass me: "You MUST be there!"
"Ok," I answered. "I'll be there."
He continued, even more forcefully, with such anger in his voice and on his face: "Do you understand me??! You MUST be there!!!"
What part of "Ok, I'll be there" do you not understand, shitbag? And doing this in front of several people who could have potentially been friends of mine? Obviously this was some sort of intimidation tactic. Or some stupid dick-waving contest.
So, I've avoided that stupid motherfucker like the plague when I can help it--I don't go in and cook dinner when he's in the kitchen; hell, I don't even go into the kitchen when he's there, if I can at all help it. And when I can't help it, I either ignore him or act rude to him. Once, during that stupid floor party that I wouldn't have condescended to attend even had I not had to give a presentation the next day, I made sure to elbow him out of the way when he was blocking my access to the refrigerator. Serves him right, the shitfucker! Think you can fuck with me and get away with it? Think again, fuck face.
Anyway...so, that guy was in the kitchen tonight when I wanted to make dinner... and when he's in the goddamned kitchen, he's in there for hours. Takes his sweet old time cooking a shit ton of food and then gleefully eating it in front of the TV, while yelling "SCHEISSE!!!" at the top of his lungs. So I didn't eat much tonight. Therefore I'm hungry because of idiots on this floor who piss me off, and when I finally go back to kitchen to get something from the fridge, and some little shit (who I'm 95% sure is responsible for at least a third of the noise that goes on at unreasonable hours in this hall) has the balls to ask me why I'm so quiet and why I don't hang out with the other people in this hall, how the fuck do you think I was going to respond???
Let's see...someone from this floor has stolen from me, not once, but TWICE; the fridge and practically everything else here is a piece of crap that doesn't work properly; I get yelled at by an asshole for not even doing anything; you fuckers threw a huge party that could be heard from 5 floors above and that lasted until at least 4 in the morning on the night before I had to give a presentation; and random people go screaming down the halls. Yeah, I don't like you. You people piss me the fuck off like no other. I hate this overpriced, tiny-ass shitbox of a room (two-fucking-hundred-and-thirty euros a month for this kennel...and look, it comes with its own dog shit!!!). You can all shove this building up your ugly asses and go fuck yourselves in Hell.
Fuck you, Scheissendorffring!
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Keeping Clean
One stereotype of the Germans is that they're a very clean people--always washing things, and even sweeping the sidewalk. So you'd think washing clothes in Germany wouldn't be such a pain in the Arsch. Au contraire. "Why?" you might ask? Well, because I do it by hand.
Oh, there are washers and driers in Germany. But it costs 2 euros to operate the washers, which are only about half the size of an American washer (even at Denison, it only costs $1.75 to wash, if my memory serves me, and the washers are twice as big). The dryers are only slightly less of a ripoff. The small ones that are half the size of an American dryer will cost you 1 euro and the big ones that are about the size of an American one, if not slightly larger, are 1,50 (Denison dryers are only 75 cents).
Even more frustrating is the fact that when I told my friend who has studied in both Hungary and the Netherlands about the outrageous cost of washing in Germany, he seemed a bit shocked. Guess how much he paid for washing clothes at the dorm he lived in in the Netherlands? Nothing. And in Hungary? Also nothing. Not a penny. The reasoning he gave? Being able to wash clothes is a matter of personal hygiene. You wouldn't charge someone for the toilet paper they use when they go to the bathroom, nor the soap from the soap dispenser when they wash their hands afterward (but then again, this rule doesn't apply to the Germans either. It's actually another one of those things you have to pay for yourself--the bathrooms in the dorms don't have soap. You have to buy your own. Not knowing this, I lacked soap on my first night in Germany and had to wash my hands with shampoo--gross.). You don't make someone pay to use the showers; that would just be tacky (unless you're in the Grand Canyon. Showers there are expensive!). So why, he argued, would you make someone pay to use those tiny, old washers and dryers that probably don't even use 2euros worth of electricity to operate?
I'll answer that: it's because they're Germans and they're ridiculous about nicking you for every pfennig they can lay their hands on. Probably because they don't charge enough for students to actually go to school or something, and they're running low on Geld because of it; I don't know. All I know is that it sucks. It sucks big time. It sucks so much, in fact, that after having washed my clothes in the washer/dryers here just once, I resolved that those greedy s.o.b.'s weren't going to get another euro cent from me, so long as I could help it. So, for the past three months, I've been washing my laundry out by hand in huge Ziploc bags brought from home and in the sink. And to those who say "you can't wash everything out in the sink," I say, "watch me."
Oh, there are washers and driers in Germany. But it costs 2 euros to operate the washers, which are only about half the size of an American washer (even at Denison, it only costs $1.75 to wash, if my memory serves me, and the washers are twice as big). The dryers are only slightly less of a ripoff. The small ones that are half the size of an American dryer will cost you 1 euro and the big ones that are about the size of an American one, if not slightly larger, are 1,50 (Denison dryers are only 75 cents).
Even more frustrating is the fact that when I told my friend who has studied in both Hungary and the Netherlands about the outrageous cost of washing in Germany, he seemed a bit shocked. Guess how much he paid for washing clothes at the dorm he lived in in the Netherlands? Nothing. And in Hungary? Also nothing. Not a penny. The reasoning he gave? Being able to wash clothes is a matter of personal hygiene. You wouldn't charge someone for the toilet paper they use when they go to the bathroom, nor the soap from the soap dispenser when they wash their hands afterward (but then again, this rule doesn't apply to the Germans either. It's actually another one of those things you have to pay for yourself--the bathrooms in the dorms don't have soap. You have to buy your own. Not knowing this, I lacked soap on my first night in Germany and had to wash my hands with shampoo--gross.). You don't make someone pay to use the showers; that would just be tacky (unless you're in the Grand Canyon. Showers there are expensive!). So why, he argued, would you make someone pay to use those tiny, old washers and dryers that probably don't even use 2euros worth of electricity to operate?
I'll answer that: it's because they're Germans and they're ridiculous about nicking you for every pfennig they can lay their hands on. Probably because they don't charge enough for students to actually go to school or something, and they're running low on Geld because of it; I don't know. All I know is that it sucks. It sucks big time. It sucks so much, in fact, that after having washed my clothes in the washer/dryers here just once, I resolved that those greedy s.o.b.'s weren't going to get another euro cent from me, so long as I could help it. So, for the past three months, I've been washing my laundry out by hand in huge Ziploc bags brought from home and in the sink. And to those who say "you can't wash everything out in the sink," I say, "watch me."
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Crazy German
Back in the first few weeks of my time in Giessen, I saw something unusual, but didn’t get a chance to post about it until now. Partly because I couldn’t get the picture onto my computer from my phone (my computer doesn’t have Bluetooth, so I had to wait until I could by a microSD card and transfer the picture from phone to microSD card and from SD card to computer), and partly because I forgot about the picture until now. But now I found the picture I’ve been wanting to show you all for a while…
Can you tell what it is?
Look closer.
It’s a guy sitting in the middle of a busy intersection. While I was out for a walk on one of my first few weeks here, I saw a bunch of people just staring at something. I couldn’t tell what they were looking at, but then I saw it too: a man walking out in the middle of this intersection, probably one of the busiest ones in the city. And I mean he walked straight into the middle. And with no regard for traffic either. What he did next was crazy. He actually sat down in the middle of that intersection. I overheard someone saying something about how he was protesting something or other. Unfortunately I hadn’t been carrying my camera that day, but lucky for me, I had already bought a cell phone that was capable of taking pictures. So I tried to snap the guy’s picture…this was as far in as I could zoom. Well, of course it didn’t take long for the Polizei to show up and cart the guy off. I still to this day don’t know what he was protesting or what happened to him. But I thought it was an amusing story that you would all like to share.
Can you tell what it is?
Look closer.
It’s a guy sitting in the middle of a busy intersection. While I was out for a walk on one of my first few weeks here, I saw a bunch of people just staring at something. I couldn’t tell what they were looking at, but then I saw it too: a man walking out in the middle of this intersection, probably one of the busiest ones in the city. And I mean he walked straight into the middle. And with no regard for traffic either. What he did next was crazy. He actually sat down in the middle of that intersection. I overheard someone saying something about how he was protesting something or other. Unfortunately I hadn’t been carrying my camera that day, but lucky for me, I had already bought a cell phone that was capable of taking pictures. So I tried to snap the guy’s picture…this was as far in as I could zoom. Well, of course it didn’t take long for the Polizei to show up and cart the guy off. I still to this day don’t know what he was protesting or what happened to him. But I thought it was an amusing story that you would all like to share.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Bier and Drinks
On Wednesday I went to a little cookout with my Denison exchange buddies, Jenny and Katharina. That was a lot of fun, and a good opportunity to practice German. So let me take the opportunity to thank both of them for the great time I had. :)
Wednesday was one of those few days when, despite the fact that it was a bit chilly and the possibility of rain hung over our heads, I didn't despise Germany's climate. It was that day that I realized that the Wise Guys were right: summer is what's in your head. It is what you make of it. So, the best strategy is to just have fun anyway, and hope that you don't get rained on (it also helps if you have a little a little alcohol to help keep you warm...now I know why Europeans are all alcoholics: their weather sucks; they need the alcohol to keep them warm/forget about their crappy weather. ;) ).
Speaking of alcohol, when I went to the big party at the sports complex Wednesday night (right after the cookout), I tried something I'm pretty sure you can only find in Germany: beer with cola. I only recommend this for the adventurous and those who love beer. I'm not quite sure what I was thinking when I ordered it, other than "no way this is beer. It's probably some kind of cola drink with some other kind of alcohol." Wrong. It was beer and cola. The first sip was a shock. The next few sips weren't so bad. After that, I just kind of wanted to throw up. But I forced myself to drink it down...and then I bought another one. I have no idea why I did that. I'm not much of a beer person anyway, and mixing beer with anything else was just a bad idea for me. Luckily, I didn't get sick that night or the morning after. But it left my stomach feeling like it had been turned upside-down all day Thursday. Not pleasant.
It didn't help that I'd only gotten about 3 hours of sleep that night. I went to bed around 4am, and woke up around 7am because it had gotten really hot and stuffy in my room and because I felt awful.
Well, at least now I know not to drink that stuff again. You would think the Germans would be purists about their beer, and not let it mix with other drinks. I would have thought that mixing beer with cola would be sacrilegious in this beer-loving society. But I guess the opposite is true. Maybe they think our flavored beers like Mike's Hard are disgusting. I already found out that root beer doesn't exist in Germany. And the Germans who have tried it, don't like it. Who'd have thought?
Wednesday was one of those few days when, despite the fact that it was a bit chilly and the possibility of rain hung over our heads, I didn't despise Germany's climate. It was that day that I realized that the Wise Guys were right: summer is what's in your head. It is what you make of it. So, the best strategy is to just have fun anyway, and hope that you don't get rained on (it also helps if you have a little a little alcohol to help keep you warm...now I know why Europeans are all alcoholics: their weather sucks; they need the alcohol to keep them warm/forget about their crappy weather. ;) ).
Speaking of alcohol, when I went to the big party at the sports complex Wednesday night (right after the cookout), I tried something I'm pretty sure you can only find in Germany: beer with cola. I only recommend this for the adventurous and those who love beer. I'm not quite sure what I was thinking when I ordered it, other than "no way this is beer. It's probably some kind of cola drink with some other kind of alcohol." Wrong. It was beer and cola. The first sip was a shock. The next few sips weren't so bad. After that, I just kind of wanted to throw up. But I forced myself to drink it down...and then I bought another one. I have no idea why I did that. I'm not much of a beer person anyway, and mixing beer with anything else was just a bad idea for me. Luckily, I didn't get sick that night or the morning after. But it left my stomach feeling like it had been turned upside-down all day Thursday. Not pleasant.
It didn't help that I'd only gotten about 3 hours of sleep that night. I went to bed around 4am, and woke up around 7am because it had gotten really hot and stuffy in my room and because I felt awful.
Well, at least now I know not to drink that stuff again. You would think the Germans would be purists about their beer, and not let it mix with other drinks. I would have thought that mixing beer with cola would be sacrilegious in this beer-loving society. But I guess the opposite is true. Maybe they think our flavored beers like Mike's Hard are disgusting. I already found out that root beer doesn't exist in Germany. And the Germans who have tried it, don't like it. Who'd have thought?
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Horst Koehler Resigns
Despite the pleas of Chancellor Angela Merkel, Germany's president, Horst Koehler, resigned Monday, due to criticism of remarks he made regarding the German army in Afghanistan. If you were curious to hear what he said, here it is:
What's that? You don't speak German?? Well, ok...here's the translation:
Don't understand what's so offensive in that? Well, essentially what he was saying, is that Germany is in Afghanistan for its own economic gain...so basically, he quit his job for saying what 99% of the population already knew. You don't see American politicians resigning over that kind of stuff... though they accuse each other of it constantly.
Then when I was walking home from the Abendkurs tonight, I was listening to the radio on my phone. They were playing some kind of joke--called up somewhere in Washington and asked in broken English/German, "Can we have Obama?"
"You want Obama?"
"Yeah, we don't have a president. Can we borrow Obama for four weeks, maybe five?"
"You calling the wrong place!"
"Yeah, but see, we need to borrow Obama."
"You calling the wrong place!!!"
That was basically how the conversation went, and it made me laugh.
Meine Einschätzung ist aber, dass insgesamt wir auf dem Wege sind, doch auch in der Breite der Gesellschaft zu verstehen, dass ein Land unserer Größe mit dieser Außenhandelsorientierung und damit auch Außenhandelsabhängigkeit auch wissen muss, dass im Zweifel, im Notfall auch militärischer Einsatz notwendig ist, um unsere Interessen zu wahren, zum Beispiel freie Handelswege, zum Beispiel ganze regionale Instabilitäten zu verhindern, die mit Sicherheit dann auch auf unsere Chancen zurückschlagen negativ durch Handel, Arbeitsplätze und Einkommen.
What's that? You don't speak German?? Well, ok...here's the translation:
In my estimation, though, we—including society as a whole—are broadly on our way towards understanding that a country of our size, with its export-led and hence export-dependent nature, needs to recognize that in cases of uncertainty or emergency, military deployment, too, is necessary if we are to uphold our interests such as ensuring free trade routes or preventing regional instability which is also certain to impair our ability to safeguard trading-related jobs and incomes.~Horst Köhler, Interview with Deutschlandradio, 22 May 2010
Don't understand what's so offensive in that? Well, essentially what he was saying, is that Germany is in Afghanistan for its own economic gain...so basically, he quit his job for saying what 99% of the population already knew. You don't see American politicians resigning over that kind of stuff... though they accuse each other of it constantly.
Then when I was walking home from the Abendkurs tonight, I was listening to the radio on my phone. They were playing some kind of joke--called up somewhere in Washington and asked in broken English/German, "Can we have Obama?"
"You want Obama?"
"Yeah, we don't have a president. Can we borrow Obama for four weeks, maybe five?"
"You calling the wrong place!"
"Yeah, but see, we need to borrow Obama."
"You calling the wrong place!!!"
That was basically how the conversation went, and it made me laugh.
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